You've Reached Sam (28)

“Have you checked Sam’s Facebook lately?” Oliver continues.

“No, I deleted mine recently. Why?”

“It’s really weird,” he says. “People are still writing on it. On his wall. As if he can still read it or something.”

“What are they saying?”

“Exactly what you’d expect them to say,” Oliver says, his jaw tense. “I can’t stand it. No one even uses Facebook anymore, you know? I don’t remember the last time I wrote on someone’s wall. Suddenly, he’s dead, and it’s flooded? I read through them all. It’s like they’re not even writing to him. It’s like they’re writing to each other. Trying to see who can grieve the most, you know?”

I’m not sure what to say. “People cope in different ways sometimes. You shouldn’t let it get to you.”

“It’s not different if everyone’s doing it.” He points across the road. “This way.”

It’s getting late but I don’t say anything. The town is somewhere behind us now, and I’ve lost track of how long we’ve been walking. I usually wouldn’t go this far out, especially at night. But Oliver’s with me. And I can tell he doesn’t want to be alone.

The temperature drops a little and I see my breath in front of me. But for some reason, I don’t feel cold. I keep my arms crossed and focus on the sound of the gravel crunching beneath my shoes, until Oliver suddenly stops and I almost bump into him. Then I look up and see the sign. Even in the dark, the bold white letters reflect the words.

LEAVING ELLENSBURG

We are standing at the edge of the city limits. A field of grass stretches out from the line of gravel that divides Ellensburg from the rest of the world. The air is still, the stars just beginning to show themselves. I look left and see the moon hanging low over the trees, lighting the tips of the grass that are slightly frosted from the cold, making it glitter like moonlight on water.

Oliver touches the line with his foot as I stand near his side, watching. He stares out into the distance for a while, hands deep in his pockets.

“Sam and I would come here a lot,” he says, almost wistfully. “I mean, we used to, anyway.” He looks at me. “Before he met you.”

I don’t say anything.

Oliver looks away. “You know … for a long time, I was mad at you.”

“For what?”

“For stealing my best friend from me,” he says. “I was always a little jealous, if you wanna know the truth. How he’d always leave me to go see you. And whenever we hung out, you were all he talked about.”

I look back at him, a flutter of laughter inside me. “That’s funny. Because I was always jealous of you for the same thing.”

Oliver smiles, and then stares out again. “Me and Sam made a lot of plans together, you know. To leave Ellensburg eventually. Whenever we got sick of this place, or one of us was having a bad day, we’d walk all the way here, and step over the line,” he says as he does it. “We always talked about finishing college at Central, and where we would go after. But that was before he made new plans with you.”

“And that’s why you always ignored me?”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” I say, and cross the line, too. “Maybe I wasn’t the nicest to you, either.”

After a moment, Oliver lets out a breath, his eyes glinting. “It really kills me, you know. That he never made it out of here. That this was it. That this line was as far as he got.” He shakes his head.

I swallow hard. “It hurts me, too.”

“I’m glad he met you, though,” Oliver says without looking at me. “I could tell you made him happy. The times you were together. At least he had that.” When I don’t say anything, he adds, “Don’t listen to any of them, by the way. The others who blame you. They don’t know anything.” I look away as he continues, “Sam really loved you, you know? If they knew him at all, they’d know how much he’d hate the things they’re saying. I’ll try to stop it if I hear anything.”

I don’t know what else to say. “Thank you.”

The two of us stare out at the grass in silence for a while. Then out of nowhere, Oliver says something, almost to himself or the moon. “I wish I could tell him one last thing.” Then he turns to me. “Do you think about that? About what you would say to Sam, if you had one more chance?”

I look down. He doesn’t know that I already have that chance. That I still have Sam. But I can’t tell him this. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it.”

“Me, too.”

It’s getting late. But we stand there in silence, just thinking and staring out at the other side of the world for a few more minutes longer before we finally have to head back.



* * *



Once we reach my house, Oliver walks me to the front door. Before I head inside, I have to ask him, “So what would you say to him?”

Oliver stares at me, somewhat confused.

“I mean, to Sam. If you had the chance?”

“Oh, well, I—” he stammers. His mouth opens and closes, as if he’s forgotten how to speak. As if something is stopping him. Seeing him struggle like this, I touch his shoulder.